Agent Under the Tree
by Chirugal
Summary: Abby's request for Christmas? An agent under the tree, and not just any agent... Gibbs/Abby, one-shot, complete.


**Title**: Agent Under the Tree**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Spoilers**: Very tiny Ziva-related one for _False Witness_, season eight.**  
Summary**: Abby's request for Christmas? An agent under the tree, and not just any agent…

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'Santa, Baby' on the Gabby forum.

* * *

"Santa Baby, slip an agent under the tree... for me..." Abby sings softly along with the music playing in her lab.

"Will Caf-Pow! do?"

"Gibbs!" Blushing, Abby grabs the cup from his hand and frowns up at the agent in question. "You're sneaky today! What have I told you about being sneaky?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Got an agent in mind?"

"If I did, would you try to guess which one?" she challenges, trying to hide the fact that she's very, very flustered right now. Asking Gibbs to play guessing games is one surefire way to get him to change the subject to work-related topics.

"I might. So, do you?"

Is he flirting with her? Or is she just vacationing in the Land of Wishful Thinking for the millionth time this week?

"Yes."

He smiles slightly, taking up the challenge. "Is it McGee?"

"No. Hell, no. Not after 2005. No way." She shudders to think back to _that_ ill-fated Christmas.

"DiNozzo?"

"You're kidding, right? As much as I love Tony, I can't stand him talking all the way through _It's a Wonderful Life_ again. He was like a director's commentary last year."

He's running out of options now, and her pulse is racing like a Christmas reindeer on Caf-Pow!. She has no idea what his reaction will be once he only has one agent left, and part of her is terrified. The other parts, though, are all screaming with anticipation.

"Ziva."

"Is way too heterosexual right now. She's going skiing with her Miami boyfriend. Gonna miss her, but I guess at least she'll have snow." She takes a sip of her Caf-Pow! and waits.

"Vance?"

"Is the Director. Not an agent." She shakes her head at the absurdity of him considering Vance is a more viable option than he is.

"That's Ducky and Palmer out. Balboa?"

Abby frowns at him. "You're not even in the ballpark, now. Give it up."

He rolls his eyes. "I give up. Who?"

Guess she doesn't have to worry about him learning her secret fantasy, after all. She's not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. "It's not the kinda guessing game where you get the answer if you give up, Gibbs. Did you come down here for the DNA that's not gonna be ready until tomorrow, or something new?"

He frowns at her, hesitating a moment before going with his gut. "Me?"

She evades the question. "Is that an offer?"

"Do you want it to be?" he counters.

"If I did, would you make the offer?" That's not admitting it. Not really.

"Depends. Have you been a good girl?" His tone is light, but his eyes... they turn her bones to a mushy pulp that's barely capable of supporting her. Or would, if that was scientifically possible.

"No, but Santa and I made a bargain. I'd grow some radioactive carrots to help Rudolph's nose glow brighter, and he'd slip an agent under my tree." Okay, now she's being kooky, but if anyone should be used to that now, it's Gibbs.

"So, are you gonna ask, or are we gonna skip around hypothetically until the New Year?" His voice is warm and affectionate and impatient all at once, and she takes the plunge, confident now.

"Are you gonna hurry down my chimney tonight, Agent Gibbs?"

"Can I come through your apartment door instead?" he asks. "Or do you want me to wait while you ask Santa for a chimney?"

She grins. "The door's fine. And dressing up as Santa is optional. In fact, don't bother. You couldn't grow the beard in time."

"Uh-huh." He looks around for something, then back at her. "No mistletoe this year?"

_Oh, Santa, this is the best gift ever. I must have been a really good girl, after all..._

"They were all out when I bought the rest of my decorations. I'm stopping by the store on the way home to pick it up." Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she adds, "You could pretend it's there now, though..."

He does, brushing a barely-there, feather-light kiss against her lips before walking away. She's left with the impression of a mischievous smile and the promise of a Christmas Eve to remember.

_END._


End file.
